


There's No Chance For Us

by cymbaline



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian May - Freeform, Freddie Mercury - Freeform, John Deacon - Freeform, M/M, Military, Queen - Freeform, Roger Taylor - Freeform, War, dealor - Freeform, joger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymbaline/pseuds/cymbaline
Summary: A nineteen-year-old John Deacon joins the army. Stationed in Vietnam, he experiences the chronicles of military life with his three barracks roommates, who call themselves Queen. He finds himself growing particularly fond of the blonde one, and faces the challenges that come with  love in the midst of war.





	1. A New Home

He pushed his long chestnut hair behind his shoulder and turned around to look at his mother one last time before pressing his toe on the bottom step of the bus.

“Name?” A short grunt man bellowed underneath a brimmed hat.

“John Richard Deacon, sir.” He squeaked out and dipped his chin to look at his shoes.

“Deacon? Deacon, J. R., August 19th, 1951?” The man peered up from his clipboard to make eye contact with John. 

“Yes, sir.” John met the man’s gaze, but his voice cracked again.

“Get on, soldier.” The man patted John’s shoulder.

John picked up his father’s old olive-colored bag and boarded the steps to the bus. Dozens of young men littered the aisles, none looking too friendly. He chose a seat near the back next to a boy that looked squeakier than himself. He nodded at the boy, who promptly turned away. 

 _This is going to be a long two weeks._ John thought to himself. 

 

A long two weeks it was. He couldn’t get the taste of mud out of his mouth, and if he had to scrub the floor with a toothbrush one more time as punishment for his voice squeaking, he was going to rip out his own vocal cords. The man that slept next to him kept him awake with snoring, and ate his toast at dinner. He scrubbed himself every night, but couldn’t seem to get the dirt out of the cracks in his hands. Most of all, John missed his mother. He hoped she’d write, but knew that she might not be able to reach him until he was stationed at a more permanent location.

At the end of the two weeks, John was ten pounds lighter and had much less hair, but was ready for boot camp to end. A natural introvert, John couldn’t seem to connect with any of the men. He was hoping to find some better friends in his company. He climbed in another bus to leave the countryside and boarded a plane to a place he’d only heard of on the nightly news. 

* * *

He woke up to someone tapping his shoulder. ”Deacon, we’ve landed.” He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. The sky was pitch black and smelled of the sea. The soldiers were to grab their bags and ride another bus to a city, where they would arrive at sunrise. John trudged with his things to the bus and found himself asleep again shortly. Soon, the sun peeked its way into his eyes, and John could finally see the landscape before him. He was overwhelmed by the sight. The barracks were nothing like he had imagined. For some reason, he had pictured small tents similar to the American Civil War. These were small houses, with windows and shutters. The landscape was beautiful, with green rolling hills and mountains in the distance. It looked like paradise, a distant dream. The bus halted, and everyone stood up to exit. 

Some clothes and a blanket wrapped pillow were shoved into his arms as he reached the bottom step. 

“Number 5, Deacon. You’ll be with Taylor, May, and Bulsara.” The grunt man nodded.

 

He walked down the row of barracks and eventually found the one with a number five on the door. John heard a ruckus inside and held his breath before entering.

The large room was plain, with wooden walls and floors. There were four cots with trunks at the toes, and a large clothesline dividing the room in half. Three men were enjoying a game of Scrabble and talking amongst themselves. The door slammed behind John, alerting their attention to the door and silencing their conversation. 

 

“About time we get a new roommate!” The blonde man furthest from the door bellowed out, a cigar hanging from his mouth. The other two men stood up, walking over to where John stood. 

A tall lanky man took John’s pillow and uniforms from his arms and laid them down on the only unmade bed. “Brian May.” He stuck out his hand to shake John’s now empty one. 

John looked to the shorter man that stood next to him. He was studying John up and down and smiling. “Hello dear, I’m Freddie Mercury.”

“Mercury? I thought..” John began.

“It’s Bulsara, he’s changing it when we’re out.” The blonde finally rose from the table, after shuffling around his stack of letters and exchanging them to be more favorable. The man put out his cigar and stuck his hand out. “Roger Taylor.” John finally got a good look at him. 

Roger Taylor was about John’s height, but by the way the uniform clung to his figure, John could tell that he was muscular. He was handsome, with big sapphire eyes hiding behind large black-framed glasses. John couldn’t deny the attractiveness of his features. Noticing John’s staring, Roger furrowed his brow.

“You know, you haven’t told us your name yet, darling.” Freddie was watching him intently.

“I’m sorry, how rude of me.” John stumbled over his words. “I’m John Deacon.” He nodded his head to the other three. 

“Welcome to 5, mate.” Brain patted John’s shoulder. Freddie repeated the gesture, though more delicately. Roger just remained in place, his brow furrowed and staring, as if trying to use x-ray vision to see John’s bones. 

 

John sat down on his bed and began to unpack his olive colored bag. Brian and Freddie stepped out onto the front porch, engaging in a conversation. Roger, however, stayed behind. He hovered near John before setting on his own bed, across from John. John looked up and realized Roger was eyeing him.

“Do you smoke Deacon?” Roger nodded in John’s direction. Before John could squeak out an answer, Roger placed a cigar in his mouth. He looked at John down the nose of his glasses and waited for some recognition before lighting it for him. “Inhale.” John breathed in the thick tar, but sent himself into a coughing fit almost immediately. Roger moved to sit beside John and patted his back. He took the cigar out of John's mouth and puffed it, unaffected by the saliva that was dripping from the end. “We’re ambushing tonight, Deacon. Make sure you get plenty to drink and rest today. We head out around 8.” Roger patted John’s back again, his hand lingering for a little longer than necessary. John’s face burned red, but Roger didn’t seem to notice. Instead, Roger returned to his cot and relit his cigar, blowing the smoke away from John’s face.

John unpacked the few things that he had into his trunk and sat on his cot, looking around the room. Some small drawings decorated the walls, hung up with rusty nails. Roger noticed John’s gazing and pulled the cigar from his mouth.

“They’re Fred’s. Quite the artist, isn’t he?” Roger smiled in John’s direction as he nodded. John wasn’t looking though. He seemed to be enthralled by the art littering the walls. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m not an artist, no. I can’t draw.” John covered his mouth in embarrassment. “I do like music though. Played bass in a band.” 

“No shit?” Roger placed his dead cigar in the ashtray. John raised an eyebrow, and Roger explained. “I play drums. Brian plays guitar. Freddie likes to play piano and sing.” 

“I guess that makes us a band then.” John laughed to himself, but a look of hope glinted in Roger’s eyes. 

“I guess it does, and you and I a rhythm section.” Roger held John’s gaze, only faltering when the door slammed and the two other men entered.

 

“Roger, can you stop flirting so we can get breakfast?” Freddie announced, twirling his hand in the air. John’s bright red face garnished the effect that Freddie had been hoping for. “Come on, dears.” He laughed and gestured for the door. 

John climbed from his bed and followed Brian and Freddie toward the door. Roger was behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him just before the door frame. Roger moved his face very close to John’s ear, sending goosebumps down his spine. “Stick with me in there, Deacon.” He whispered and then placed a hand on the small of John’s back to nudge him forward.


	2. The Protector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely comments and kudos; they are much appreciated! I hope you enjoy this chapter as the boys get to know each other a little more. I expect to update more within the next few days!

John stepped into the mess hall and froze. There were hundreds of men carrying on conversations, shouting, and slopping down food. The introverted John was overwhelmed, but harnessed a small sense of comfort when he felt Roger’s hand on his back. 

“Line’s over there, mate. Follow Brian.” Roger carefully whispered in John’s ear and nudged him forward. 

John followed the tall man to a stack of metal trays. Brian turned around and placed one into John’s hand, nodding. John moved through the line, while Roger ordered for both of them. The server dipped his head and made eye contact with John as he slapped some bread and beef gravy on his tray. “Grab some sausage, Deacon.” Roger whispered to him. John followed Roger’s orders and placed a few links on his tray. As he moved to his right, he saw a percolator of coffee. His mouth started watering. He reached to grab the last cup when someone from behind stole it out of his hand and pushed him to the side.

“Not today, new meat.” A short brown-haired man eyed him up and down before filling the mug with coffee. John could see the paled outline of a mustache lingering on his face. The man leaned toward John’s face, stroking the young man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Better to quit now, leave some for the tough guys.” 

Roger bulldozed the man, almost knocking the tray out of John’s hands. The coffee cup went crashing to the floor, and Roger hovered over the man with his fist in the air. “Talk to him or touch him like that again, Prenter, and I’ll kick your fucking ass.”

“Okay, okay.” Paul Prenter held his hands up in surrender and Roger released him. Prenter scrambled to his feet and jogged back to his table, muttering curse words to himself. 

Roger looked to John, who was clearly shocked by the course of events. Roger laid a hand on the young man’s upper arm, waiting for him to make eye contact. Their gazes connected for a moment. “Go have a seat, Deacon.” Roger grumbled.

John followed Roger’s command, finding a seat next to Freddie and across from Brian. He started digging into his meal, barely breathing in between bites. He didn’t realize how hungry he had gotten. As he finished, he looked up to his two roommates who were watching him in awe. “Hungry, John?” Brian tilted his head and flashed John a smile. 

Roger finally trudged over to the table and slapped another plate down in front of John, as well as a cup of coffee. “Thought you might want some more.” Roger smiled and nodded at John, who eagerly shoved the extra biscuits into his mouth. The coffee was bitter to the point of being almost undrinkable, but he smiled at the thoughtfulness of the cup and downed it anyway. 

* * *

The three men finished their food and exited the mess hall. Roger kept his hand on John’s shoulder, walking behind him and eyeing down Paul Prenter on the way out. “Fucking asshole.” Roger muttered to himself as they stepped out into the hot sun. They ventured back to the barracks, where Freddie and Brian had a seat at their shared table. Roger ventured to his bed and pulled out a magazine from underneath, crossing his legs and occupying himself. His attention was only averted when John hovered over his bed and cleared his throat. “Yes?” Roger looked at him above his glasses, an eyebrow raised.

“Thanks. Uh, for what you did back there.” John rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how exactly to seem grateful that the older man stuck up for him. Roger sensed John’s apprehension and smiled, sitting up and putting the magazine on the bed next to him.

“It’s no problem, Deacon. That guy’s a prick. I’d really like to kick his ass one of these days.” Roger pulled his hand into a fist and his knuckles turned white. John backed up a little and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“What Roger is trying to say, dear, is that you’re one of us now. We look out for each other.” Freddie turned around and smiled. Brian nodded at the comment, agreeing. 

Roger made eye contact with John, flashing a look that John couldn’t quite place. He smiled, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Did you guys know that our friend Deacon here plays the bass?” He turned to nod at his other two roommates.

“Well, mate. Welcome to the band.” Brian nodded, lifting his canteen in the air before taking a drink.

Freddie’s face was glued on John, and he finally revealed his gargantuan teeth with an open mouth smile. “We'll have to find a name for ourselves then!” Freddie stood up and twirled around, reaching his hands out. “A band, isn’t that just wonderful, Brian?” 

The other three giggled at the scene, and John started to feel warm inside. These were definitely the kind of friends he had been hoping to find. 

After the laughter died down, Roger stood up, motioning for John to do the same. “C’mon Deacon, I’ll show you around camp. Bring your cantine.” John obliged and followed Roger out of the door. 

Roger slowed down once they descended the steps, and they fell into a similar stride. He nodded, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. “Want one?” He held the pack out and John shook his head. “Tell me about yourself, Deacon. Where are you from?” Roger turned his head to the side, and his blue eyes poured into John’s gray ones. 

“I’m from a small town in Wisconsin, Chippewa Falls. How about you?” John said quietly.  _ Why is this man so interested in taking me under his wing? _

Roger nodded at John’s response, smiling. “Pensacola, Florida. Siblings? Parents?” Roger paused. “Girlfriend?”

John was taken aback by all of the questioning. “I lived at home with my mom and sister. She’s fifteen. Dad died when I was young.” He fell silent. Roger wanted to comment, but instead waited for the man to process his thoughts. “Not dating anyone.” John nodded in Roger’s direction, as if to say  _ what about you? _

Roger flashed a smile at John. “I lived at home with my mother and sister as well. My parents are divorced. Dad’s a right ass hole.” Roger laughed to himself and puffed on his cigarette. “Not dating anyone either, though many would like to.” John raised an eyebrow but chose not to reply. An awkwardness seemed to fill the air, but John wasn’t sure why.

They reached the spicket to fill their canteens and Roger stepped aside so John could fill his first. After it was filled, John chugged down the whole container. Roger stared at the boy in awe and stepped aside to let John fill his canteen again. “After lunch you should get some rest. We have a big night tonight.” Roger stated, taking a sip from his canteen. John agreed with a nod. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest.” 

They walked for a while, following a trail along the inside of the fence that held the encampment. Roger continued to ask John questions and John continued to quietly answer. It turns out they had a lot in common. Both liked science fiction, preferred art and music to sport, and had an interest in cars. John couldn't help but notice the keen regard that the older man had for him. He chalked it up to a mixture of loneliness and knowing that they'd share a household for an indefinite amount of time. After a few hours of talking about this and that, it was time for lunch. John found himself in line between Brian and Roger again, but with more self-confidence. He grabbed his food and drink and hurried back to the table, noticing the watchful eye of Prenter on him the whole time. They had an uneventful lunch, and John found himself falling asleep soon after.

* * *

He awoke to Roger’s careful voice. “John, it’s time to go.” John rolled out of his bed. He added his vest to what he was already wearing and strapped on his canteen and helmet. The other men quietly did the same. Dressing and readying their things, they all stood in silence. Soon, a slight knock sounded from their door, and it was time to go. They filed out, one after another. Freddie was in front, then Brian, followed by John, and Roger in the back. They moved inaudibly into the night, boarding one of several caravans headed north.

Number 5 all sat in a row, Freddie nearest the door, followed by Brian, John, and Roger toward the front. Another set of four sat on the opposite side of the caravan. They rode in blackness for a while, with only the sound of tires lifting the earth. John felt himself start to tremble when he heard gunshots in the distance. Bootcamp could never have prepared him for this. For the first time, he realized that he was in the middle of a conflict that he may not return from. Tonight, their mission was to catch supporters of the enemy by surprise and drive them North. He didn’t feel adequate enough to be taking on an order like this, and that scared him more than anything. He felt Roger shift to his right and a hand slowly touched his trembling knee. John thought for sure it was an accident, but Roger’s hand then trailed down to meet his. They brushed palms for a minute before Roger interlaced their fingers. 

 


	3. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best! Thank you for your continued support!
> 
> Warning: this chapter is a little graphic and contains some ugly scenes of war.

Roger stroked John's thumb with his own in soothing waves. Although John couldn't see in the darkness, he turned to face Roger. He could tell that Roger did the same by the warm air that he felt on his face. Goosebumps spread down his neck as Roger's sweet breath filled his nostrils. They stayed like this for the remainder of the ride, gentle squeezes pulsating between their interlaced hands. 

The caravan came to a halt and Roger squeezed John's hand one last time before letting go. John instantly missed the warmth, but rose from his seat anyways. He dusted his fingers over the back of Brian's vest, guiding himself outside. As soon as he entered the warm black air, a gun was shoved into his chest.

"5 and 7, you start on the West side. 6 and 8, you start on the East. Don't miss a door. When everyone is out, we collect supplies and then set fire. Only use your guns if absolutely necessary. Got it?" A voice he'd never heard whispered through the thick night air.

"Yes, sir." They all responded, loading their guns. 

Freddie gathered the boys from 5 and they stood in a circle. "John, darling, you stay with Roger. Brian and I will go together. When we're done, we will meet back here." Freddie tapped each of their helmets before splitting off with Brian. 

John looked to Roger, who was watching him in the faint glow of the moon. "Deacon." He leaned in and whispered to John. "What we are about to do is not going to be pretty, but it has to be done. Do you understand?" Roger placed both hands on John's shoulders, feeling John's nod. "Stay with me." With that, Roger led John into the night. 

Roger led the way, and John carefully followed, watching his back. They climbed a small set of steps into a wooden house. The floor creaked beneath their feet as they entered a large room that could be classified as a bedroom. Roger turned on his light, and shined the source at the couple lying in their bed. He pointed his gun in their direction, and then motioned toward the door as if saying _time to go_. The man’s dark eyes radiated with fear as he quickly gathered his wife and their two small children. Roger grabbed the man’s shoulder, and John followed suit by placing a hand on the crying woman. Although the act itself was rough, John noticed that Roger’s touch remained gentle. Each parent had the hand of a sleepy child and steered them through the small woods near the end of the village. Roger and John led them to a trail headed north, where Roger pushed them forward and pointed his gun in their direction. They began to run, crying and shouting things in a language that the men couldn’t understand. John stood, stunned at what they had just done. “No time to dwell, Deacon.” Roger whispered with a sigh, before heading back in the direction of the village. 

They repeated the same method, house after house. Finally, all of their houses were empty. Roger and John joined Freddie and Brian, who stood silently near a tree south of the village. Freddie covered his mouth with a finger, signalling for them not to speak. 

Soon, a man, who John recognized as Prenter, emerged from a small house, chasing a woman. The woman had a small child holding onto her left arm. Prenter pushed her with the tip of his gun, which seemed to cause a rise in the young mother. She turned around and swung for him with her free hand. Prenter grabbed her by the arm, effectively wrestling the child away. She continued to fight, clawing at his eyes. After a minute, he overpowered her and pushed her to the ground, holding her down with his boot. He pointed the gun in the direction of her head and fired. A deafening silence filled the air, followed by a scream from the scrambling child. Prenter’s partner picked him up, hauling him to the trail that the others had scrambled down. Another woman picked the child up and ran. Prenter’s partner fired several shots into the air, causing them to escape faster and out of sight. 

Roger made eye contact with John for a brief minute before leading him toward the now empty houses. They turned on their lamps and searched for any useful resources that they could find. After searching each house and emptying it of supplies, the men set fire to each home. Because they were made of wood and thatch, the flames started easily. After ensuring that all were burning, the men filed back to the caravans, returning to an eerie silence. John was grateful for the darkness, as he could finally release the anxiety that was filling his bones. He gripped the bench beneath him, gritting his teeth and attempting to quiet his mind. As his knuckles turned white, however, he felt a hand brush over his once again. Roger’s hand caressed his, loosening it from the bench and pulling it towards his lap. Roger rubbed John’s knuckles with his thumb as John squeezed in his grip. 

* * *

They returned to the encampment, and John felt himself struggling to let go of Roger’s hand once again. As he exited the truck, however, Roger’s grip loosened and his hand fell to his side. They headed to their house, filing one after the other, in the usual order. Freddie grabbed his blanket and headed back out to their front porch with a magazine and Brian in tow. Roger removed his helmet and shirt, sitting down on the edge of his bed. John was pacing back and forth at the end of his bed, face filled with terror. Roger watched him for a while, finally taking off his glasses and placing them on the hood of his trunk. He rubbed his temples and moved over to John’s bed, rubbing an empty spot next to him. The younger man looked at him, bewildered. Roger let out a sigh and cleared his throat.

“Deacon, come sit.” Roger whispered, causing John to finally stop pacing. John looked in Roger’s direction, and his shoulders dropped. He slowly made his way over to the bed and sat down next to Roger. They were silent for a moment, John unsure of what Roger wanted him to say. Slowly, Roger wrapped his arm around John’s shoulders, pulling him closer. John tensed at first, but eventually relaxed into Roger’s touch, leaning his head against the older man’s shoulder. After a few minutes, John couldn’t hold it in anymore, and tears started to well up in his eyes. Roger felt a few drops hit his arm, and turned to face John. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, pulling him closer, so that John’s face was in his collarbone. John’s silent tears turned into full on sobs, and Roger tightened his grip on the young man. He pulled John down, so that they were both lying on his bed. Roger removed John’s helmet and stroked the younger man’s hair, allowing John to curl himself on top of Roger, his head resting on the older man’s chest. After some long moments, John’s choked sobs turned into silent breaths of sleep, and Roger carefully pulled a blanket over both of them. He wrapped his arms around the brunette and allowed the slow rise and fall of his chest to lull him to sleep.

* * *

John woke up to the light of the sun, entering through the window and the cracks in their wooden house. He opened his eyes and realized that the bed beneath him was moving up and down. He glanced up to see Roger, peacefully sleeping, holding him in his strong grip. He studied the older man’s face, taking in his soft features and immeasurable beauty. He watched as the man took slow breaths, sleep still taking hold of his handsome figure. Soon, the blonde stirred, and John rested his head. He didn’t want the blonde to catch his stares. He wasn’t fast enough, however, and the blonde stroked his hair, muttering his name. “Deacon?” 

John looked up again, and caught the older man’s eyes. Blue met gray, and for a moment, they were both lost. Roger reached his hand up and stroked the younger man’s cheek, his hooded eyes revealing a small sense of vulnerability. John leaned into the touch, and for a moment, he felt their faces growing closer. 

The door to the house slammed, however, and John found himself crashing to the floor. Brian cleared his throat, awkwardly, and Freddie held back a laugh. “John are you alright, dear?” He smiled in Roger’s direction, having witnessed the whole scene. Roger’s eyes remained on the younger man, however, and ignored Freddie’s suggestive tone. 

“Just looking for my, uh, canteen.” John laughed nervously. 

“It’s attached to your belt, mate.” Brian pointed out, and John looked down to where it was attached to his pants. 

“Oh, so that’s where I put it.” John’s face grew crimson, and Roger’s face turned into a knowing smirk. 

“On that note, let’s get some breakfast, shall we boys?” Freddie laughed and waved his arms in the air. Roger reapplied his shirt and lit himself a cigarette as they all exited the house. Roger’s eyes searched for John’s, but the younger man’s face was glued to his shoes.

 


	4. You've Got Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued love! I have really enjoyed researching for this story. Please keep your input coming. Love you guys!

The following three weeks were much of the same. John would wake up to the sound of Roger’s soft voice, and they would board a caravan to ambush another village. John kept his cool during the mission itself, but on the rides through the night, he found his long fingers trembling in Roger’s calloused hands.

Night after night, John would find himself pacing, and Roger would call him over for comfort. They started to fall into a routine, John leaning into Roger’s shoulder, and Roger stroking his hair until the sweet embrace of sleep took over.

Roger finally pushed their beds together, so that he was able to hold John each night. Roger knew how hard it was to face the hard facts of military duties. His first months in the army had been a quiet struggle, a realization of the man he had to be. Roger didn’t want John to have to suffer alone like he did. So, he held the man, and continued to lull himself to sleep with the brunette's soft breaths. Each morning, John would wake first, taking in Roger's angelic features. He often found himself questioning what exactly they were doing.

 _Did Roger do this with other men before me? Do other men do this?_ _How do I feel about Roger?_

They hadn't discussed the events of the last few weeks. John wondered if Roger would ever be the one to acknowledge them, or if he'd have to awkwardly breach the subject.

His thoughts cycled on the twenty-second morning, and Roger woke up to find the young man's brow furrowed. The blonde reached out to rub the wrinkles in the brunette's forehead, and the younger man pulled out of his mind to meet Roger's gaze. Roger’s hand grazed John’s cheek, the area growing hot under his touch. The men laid for a few minutes, staring into each other's eyes. Roger opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, stretching up and rising from the bed. He laid eyes on their two friends, who were fast asleep. Roger changed into new clothes and headed toward the door. Before exiting, he motioned for John to join him.

John followed suit and rose from his bed. He stretched his arms over his head and dressed before joining Roger in the early morning air. Roger was smoking a cigarette and staring off into the distance when John finally sat at his side. He offered John one, and he surprisingly accepted. The two sat in silence as they puffed their smokes, a thick air of tension lingering between them.

“No ambush tonight, Deaks.” Roger finally hummed. John hummed in acknowledgment. “We’re on tower duty.” Roger waved his cigarette in the direction of one of the guard towers. He finished his cigarette and stomped it out with his boot. Roger looked to John, his eyes slowly processing the other man. He, again, looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

John mustered up some courage and cleared his throat. "Roger.." He earned a gaze from the blonde. "I was hoping we could talk about.." Just as he was about to spill his guts, Freddie exited the door and plopped next to John.

"Good morning lovelies! Am I interrupting something?" He smirked, glancing between John and Roger.

"Not at all." John sighed, feigning a smile at Freddie. Roger held his gaze for a moment.

"Mail's here today. Shall we go check?" Freddie smiled, placing a hand on John's shoulder.

"Sure thing, Fred." John glanced to Roger, who nodded.

"Bri, dear, we're running to check the mail. Meet you at breakfast." Freddie called inside to their other friend.

Somehow Roger knew that Freddie could sense the awkwardness between he and John. Freddie was too good at reading people to miss something so obvious. Roger was sure of it, by the way the Freddie walked between them, and glancing back and forth between them to catch any kind of reaction.

* * *

They arrived at the mail building, where Freddie received a single letter. John had no mail waiting for him this time. Roger, on the other hand, received dozens of envelopes and packages. All were different shapes and sizes, from varying admirers. John felt a twinge in his stomach upon seeing one, sealed with a lipstick kiss. _Jealousy?_ He tried to rub the thought from his mind, and followed his friends to the mess hall.

Roger opened his packages, one after another. John couldn’t help but watch as the blonde pulled treats from cardboard boxes, and notes on pink paper from envelopes. Roger took it upon himself to describe every package and envelope to his friends and who it was from. He stopped when he got to one envelope in particular, opening it carefully. Freddie raised an eyebrow, smirking at his friend’s hesitance. “Go on, Roger dear, tell us who it’s from.” John couldn’t help but notice Roger’s quick glance in his direction.

“It’s from.. Dominique.” Roger swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable. John gave Freddie a questioning look. “Excuse me a minute.” Roger left his packages on the table and exited the mess hall with his letter, presumably to have some privacy.

Freddie put a hand on John’s shoulder, patting it softly. “Dom is Roger’s ex-girlfriend. He was pretty broken up about her for some time.” John’s stomach dropped. Freddie noticed John’s change in demeanor and gestured for the door. “Let’s go outside, dear.” John nodded and Freddie led the way. They exited the door, but Roger was nowhere in sight. Instead, they ran into a clearly bewildered Brian. “Bri..” Freddie scrunched his brows.

“Don’t go back into the house. Give him some space.” Brian warned, heading toward the mess hall with his arms crossed.

“Oh dear..” Freddie looked at John and shook his head. “A bit of a hot head, that Roger.” Freddie led John along the trail that Roger had taken him down on the first day. Under a tree, he stopped and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He held the pack toward John, as if to say _take one_. John welcomed the gesture, lighting the stick and slowly inhaling it’s chemicals. Freddie sucked the smoke into his mouth and blew it right back out. He tapped the filter against his chin, studying John’s stressed figure. “How long have you been in love with him, dear?”

John suddenly gagged on the smoke that was in his mouth. He sputtered and coughed until he was red in the face. He looked over to Freddie, who was leaning up against the tree, smiling. “How long have I what?” John choked out.

Freddie laughed, “Oh dear, I know it’s true. You just gave me that answer.” He took another puff on his cigarette, a knowing grin on his face. “You two sleep like a married couple every night, and you expect me to believe that there’s nothing between you?”

“We haven’t exactly talked about it.” John looked at the ground, grinding his toe into the dirt.

“What you’re telling me is that..you hold each other every night, and during the day pretend like it never happened?” Freddie placed a hand on John’s arm. John’s gaze finally met Freddie’s, and tears were forming in his eyes. “Darling.” Freddie threw his cigarette at the ground and wrapped his arms around John.

John leaned into Freddie’s touch, and tears that he didn’t know he was holding fell free. “It has been so hard. No one tells you how hard it’s going to be. Your friends go off to university, and then you get picked to fight in a war that no one believes in. To do unspeakable things to other human beings.” John let out a few more sobs. “He’s been there for me. He’s pulled me through so many sleepless nights. I wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for him.”

“John, perhaps it’s time you have a conversation with our Roger.” Freddie rubbed circles on the boy’s back. He pulled back to look him in the eyes, and saw a face of pure beautiful youth. Although John Deacon was still a teenager, his carved features were ruggedly handsome. Freddie smiled when John’s eyes met his.

“What if he’s just being kind?” John’s eyes shone a bright green, filled with fear. “I’ve never exactly.. done this before.”

Freddie gave John a reassuring smile. “You only see it from one perspective. What you don’t see is the way that he watches you when you walk away, or how he stays awake until he's sure you're sleeping. I've known Roger for quite a while, but I've never known this side of Roger." Freddie placed his hands on John's shoulders. "From what I know, Roger's never done this either. Always wants to seem straight as an arrow. You saw the packages." Freddie let out a chuckle. "You're different dear, I guarantee it."

John wiped his eyes and smiled at his dark haired friend. "Thanks, Freddie."

* * *

John and Freddie headed back to the mess hall for breakfast, where they found Brian and Roger. Roger looked a complete mess. His hair was unkempt, his shirt untucked, and a boot untied. His eyes stayed glued to the table in front of him. Freddie motioned for John to sit down, while he and Brian joined the line for food.

"Rog?" John sat on the bench next to Roger. When Roger didn't stir, John carefully reached a hand under the table and placed it on his knee. Roger turned to look at John with bloodshot eyes. Their sapphire glint was filled with nothing but anguish.

"Could we go, Deacon?" Roger's piercing blue eyes pleaded. Although John's stomach was rumbling, he nodded.

* * *

Roger and John walked quietly to their shared house. Once inside, Roger sat on his bed, and motioned for John to join him. They sat, only the whistling of the wind breaking the silence between them. Finally, John reached his hand out to hold Roger's, as Roger had done so many times for him. Roger accepted the gesture, and inspected their intertwined hands.

"Deacon.. John." Roger swallowed, turning himself to look John in the face. "I know I haven't talked much about my past." John nodded, and Roger continued. "Growing up, I was close with a guy named Dan Beyrand. He was my best friend. We went fishing together, hunting, and talked about everything. I dated his sister, Dominique, for a long time--four years. I thought I was going to marry that girl." Roger shook his head laughing. "Dan and I joined around the same time, but he went for the Air Force. Always fascinated with planes. We stayed in touch all of these years, even after Dom and I broke up. We were still close as ever." Roger paused for a second and a tear fell from his eye. "Dom wrote to tell me that his plane had been shot down. He's gone, Deacon. He left a baby behind." Roger covered his face with his hands.

"Rog, I'm so sorry." John released Roger's hand and pulled him closer. John rubbed soothing strokes into Roger's side as tears streamed down his face in sadness and anger.

Eventually, Roger sat back up and looked at John. Roger's walls were completely down, and as John looked into his eyes, he saw a recognizable emotion. John wanted nothing more than to grab the blonde's face and kiss him, but something inside made him pause. Roger leaned in close, resting his forehead against John's.

"John.." Roger whispered. John could feel the other man's breath on his lips. John closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Before their lips could touch, a deafening blast sounded outside the walls of the emcampment, pulling them apart in fright. Both men instinctively grabbed their guns and ran outside as quickly as they could.


	5. On Guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. Sorry that it has taken so long for me to update, a lot has happened in the past few months and life has thrown me off track. I hope you enjoy this chapter--sorry it's a little short. I just wanted to give a taste for what's to come. I expect to update more in the next few days. 
> 
> Happy birthday, John Deacon!

"I've got it!" Freddie slammed his fists on the table, causing Scrabble pieces to fly in every direction. 

"You just made me lose! I finally had good letters!" Roger whined, looking to Brian and John for affirmation. John just laughed in response, which earned him an eye roll from Roger.

"It was a bit unnecessary, Fred." Brian shrugged, a smirk on his face.  

"Go on then, tell us what was so important that you had to ruin our game." Roger stood up from the table to pick up his pieces from the floor.

"Our band name." Freddie couldn't contain his smile. "Queen." He turned around his letters to show them. 

"I don't know Fred, isn't that a little…" Roger's face turned scarlet when he realized what he was about to say.

"A little what, Roger? Care to share with the group?" A smirk spread across Freddie's face.

Roger allowed his face to cool, everyone else's eyes on him. "Creative, it's creative Fred." 

"It's nice, Freddie." John piped in, his eyes meeting Roger's.

"Queen it is then!" Brian shook his head and laughed.

This lightheartedness was a great change from the earlier events of the day. It turns out, a large animal had set off a triggered alarm and caused a small bomb to detonate. Everyone was on edge for the rest of the morning, especially their superior officer. After the ambush that ended with Prenter killing an unarmed civilian, it seemed that they were all on thin ice. The morning's "inadequate response time" resulted in double chores and ten extra laps. To say that the men needed some comedic relief was an understatement.

John and Roger weren't able to get alone to finish their "conversation", and an air of anticipation seemed to thrum around them. It was no surprise that Freddie sensed the tension. Being the drama queen he was, Freddie complained of being tired and suggested that he get to stay back and sleep. Roger knew it was all a ploy so that he and John would be forced to sit in the tower together and stand guard. Brian’s quick wit sensed the plan and agreed that he wanted to rest first and take the second shift. Roger couldn’t help but notice the smirk on Freddie’s face as he and John exited their shared cabin. John followed Roger to the tower in silence, butterflies rumbling in his stomach at the thought of being alone with the man. 

* * *

 

When they arrived, Roger explained their duties and showed John where to set up. Although the room at the top of the tower was quite small, the two men had to sit far apart. Neither man felt sure if that made the predicament more or less comfortable. While on guard, they had to be alert but could carry on a whispered conversation. For a few hours, they spoke of silly little things, such as primary school and childhood memories. Soon, their conversation grew quiet.

John cleared his throat, breaking the stillness of the air between them. “I really am sorry about your friend, Rog..” The lingering was apparent in John’s voice. There were so many things that he wanted to say but hadn’t the courage to.

“Thanks, John.” Roger smiled to himself, the same thoughts crossing his mind. 

They sat in silence again, for what seemed to be a long time. 

“Rog..” John finally mustered up some courage to speak again. His voice was low and throaty. There was meaning behind his utterance, but Roger couldn’t put a name to it. Perhaps he was overthinking.

“Yeah?” Roger croaked out after a moment, his throat suddenly dry.

John paused, and took a deep breath before continuing. “What are we doing?”

Roger’s heart was pounding in his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Roger..” John sounded more serious this time. 

“John..” Roger was now looking at John from across the room. Although it was getting dark, John could see his eyes sparkling.

John moved from his chair to stand, and Roger did the same. They met in the middle, a meter separating them. Their gazes met each other intensely.  

“What are we doing?” John said again, whispering. 

Roger stepped forward and reached a hand out to touch John’s face.

“Roger..” John whispered as his face heated from Roger's touch. "What is this?" He gestured to the space between them. 

Roger felt his stomach swirling with anticipation and longing. He had never felt this way about a man before. He'd only ever been with women, held women, kissed women. Why was John so different? Roger lost himself in thought and his eyes glazed over. When he returned to reality, he couldn't seem to form syllables.

"I don't know." Roger's words sounded cold, and John took a few steps back. Hurt crossed the young man's face. John turned away, and Roger realized his mistake. "John." Roger stepped towards him again, this time placing a hand on his shoulder. John turned to face Roger, tears filling his eyes. "John.." Roger said again, using his hand to wipe the tears from the younger man's eyes.

"It's okay." John sniffled. "You don't need to explain. I knew I was stupid to think you might have feelings for someone like me." He crossed his arms and looked to the ground.

Roger moved closer, using his thumb and forefinger to tip John's chin up. Roger leaned in and pressed his forehead against John's. "John.." Roger whispered, his sweet breath filling John's nostrils. John hummed in response, his breath hitching. "Can I kiss you?" Roger could swear he felt John's heartbeat quicken in his chest.

"Yes." John breathed and closed his eyes. Roger closed the gap, finally allowing their lips to touch. It started out soft and tender. Roger moved one hand to the back of John's neck, and the other to his hip. John mirrored the movements, eliciting a soft lick to his lower lip from Roger. John moaned and deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing and tangling. Soon, the two were left gasping for air. John rested his forehead against Roger's. 

"John.. I.." Roger began to say, but the pair were startled apart by footsteps on the stairs.


	6. Malfunction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and warm wishes. I have never written a chapter like the following before, so I'd love some feedback!

"Taylor, Deacon." Their commanding officer, Jim Beach entered the room and they both stood at attention. "You missed your 0130 reports. Did you forget?"

"No, sir. Our transmitter was malfunctioning, sir." Roger stated, staring straight ahead.

"But it is working now?" Beach raised an eyebrow.

"It appears so, sir." Roger boasted.

"Is that so, Deacon?" Beach towered over the young man.

"Y-yes, sir." John tried to say as confidently as possible.

"Hmm. Bulsara and May will be switching soon right? I'll have someone come look at the radio just in case." Beach nodded to himself and descended the stairs again.

John's shoulders relaxed and he looked to Roger, who wore a smirk on his face. They stood in silence for a long moment, each anticipating the other’s next movement.

Before either could act, they heard the footsteps of Freddie and Brian.

Freddie ascended the stairs and pressed his hands to his hips. A zombie-like Brian appeared behind the man and stretched his arms above his head.

"Time for bed, boys!" Freddie looked between the two and motioned for the stairs. Roger rolled his eyes before descending out and to their house. John silently followed the blonde, wondering what would happen once they were alone again.

* * *

 

They walked through the door, Roger shutting the storm door behind them. Before John could take a second thought, he was pushed against the wall, Roger’s lips on his. This time, however, John placed a hand on Roger's chest to stop them before it grew deeper.

"John.. what's.." Roger stuttered out, in a lustful daze.

"Roger, I've never done something like this." John's eyes were serious. "I don't know what I'm doing."

“Me either.” Roger returned his lips to John’s, but John pushed him back again. Roger looked at John, puzzled.

“Roger.. You don’t understand.” John’s cheeks turned scarlet and he looked at his shoes. “I’ve never done this before.”

Roger used his finger to tip John’s face back up to look at him. "Hey." He said as they made eye contact. "I haven't either."

John took a deep breath and sighed. "Rog.. you've been with women." The redness returned to John's cheeks. "I haven't been with anyone."

Roger looked at John, confused, and tilted his head. "Anyone?"

"I have never even.. kissed anyone like this." John looked Roger in the eyes, all of his vulnerability on display.

"John.." Roger rubbed his hand along John's jawline. He had a hard time processing the idea that anyone could resist someone as beautiful as John. "I'm sorry for being so forward. I.. We don't have to do anything that makes you feel..” A finger pressed over Roger’s mouth made him stop.

“I’ve never felt about anyone the way that I feel about you.” John’s eyes were shining. Despite feeling the same way, Roger’s head was screaming for him to push and run away from all of it. He was never good at feelings, and most people who cared about him ended up hurt. However, deep in the pit of his stomach, he had a feeling. He knew that John was different than the one night stands and the girls that sent him pink packages every month.

“Me too..” Was all Roger could muster, but it seemed to be enough.

John’s lips were back on Roger’s in a short moment. The kiss started gently but soon became rough and full of wanting. Roger sucked John’s lower lip, causing the younger to moan. John opened his mouth, and Roger deepened the kiss. Their tongues clashed and John continued to make explicit noises, driving Roger crazy. Roger removed his lips from John’s to kiss along his jawline. The younger moaned in protest, but Roger was focused on his task. He moved his way down to John’s ear, where he softly nibbled his earlobe and whispered “John..”.

John ground his hips forward against Roger, and godly noises sounded from his throat. Roger bit back his own moan from this movement, and worked his way down, kissing and biting along John’s collarbone. He left a beautiful mark along the way, claiming the young man and this night as theirs.

“Roger..” John moaned out as Roger continued to press him against the wall. Roger took the hint and pulled John by the shirt, kissing him and leading him to their beds that still sat side by side.

Feeling a spark of confidence, John took a step back and lifted off his shirt, tossing it behind him.

Roger let out a low growl and wrapped his arms around John’s waist. “You’re so beautiful.” Roger expressed a goofy smile as the words rolled off of his tongue.

“Your turn,” John replied as he lifted Roger’s shirt to reveal his stomach. Roger allowed the younger man to help him. As soon as his shirt was removed and thrown across the room, Roger pulled John onto the bed. John straddled Roger, kissing along his neck and working his way down, sucking and biting.

He reached Roger’s nipple and took it into his mouth. This caused Roger to throw his head back and let out a moan. John sucked on the delicate skin, and soon felt Roger rutting against him.

The two clashed lips once again, and Roger continued to grind his hardness against John. The friction generated vile noises from both men. Finally, starting to feel himself being pushed to the brink, John pulled away and made his way further down Roger’s body. He reached the hem of Roger’s pants and kissed along his hipline. Roger squirmed underneath him, breathing heavily.

John reached his hand down to cup Roger through his pants. “John..” he cried out, thrusting his groin into the younger man’s grip.

John sucked along Roger’s waistline again, before reaching down and undoing Roger’s belt buckle. He opened the zipper and trailed kisses down the trail of hair that laid above the line of Roger’s underwear. He moved his fingers beneath Roger’s boxers and reaching down, he worked his hand down Roger’s length.

“John..” Roger cried out again, tossing his head back. Before he could spit out another word, John’s hand was covered. Roger slumped in his bed, panting.

“Roger, did you just..” John pulled his dripping hand from Roger’s pants.

“Fuck.” Roger uttered, shielding his eyes with his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Roger.


	7. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, sorry for the wait. Warning: mature content ahead. Thanks for your patience and as always, your love!

“Roger.” John pried Roger’s hands from his eyes. “It’s okay.”

  
“John, it’s your first time doing anything and I.. misfired.” Roger was panting and his face beat red.

  
“Well, at least I have nothing to compare it to.” John smiled and pecked Roger on the cheek.

  
“Yet.” Roger wrinkled his nose, finding a bit of confidence despite himself.

  
He pulled John down for a kiss and then flipped the two of them, so he was straddling the brunette. Roger kissed John again, brushing against the younger man’s groin. A moan escaped the younger man’s mouth and Roger captured it with his tongue. Roger leaned down to kiss the young man’s collarbone, nibbling and sucking. He worked his way to John’s hips, reaching fingertips beneath his waistband. John squirmed beneath him, his hips bucking. Roger looked up to see John’s face red, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. He took in the sight of the young man’s beauty. John noticed this pause and looked up to meet Roger’s eyes.

  
“Sorry.” John’s face flushed.

  
“Don’t be sorry. I was just marveling at how perfect you look.” Roger gave John a zealous grin.

  
John’s eyes shined in Roger’s direction, and Roger moved to unzip the younger’s pants. Roger ran his thumb over John’s hard length through his underwear. He pressed his lips to John’s covered cock, eliciting soft noises from the brunette’s lips. “Lift your hips, baby,” Roger growled, and John complied. In one swift movement, Roger pulled down John’s jeans.

  
His cock was only free for mere seconds before Roger placed the tip in his mouth.

  
“Fuck,” John yelled, covering his mouth almost immediately. Roger looked at John from hooded eyes, running his finger up and down the young man's length.

  
"I like hearing you, Deaky." Roger smiled as he put John's length back into his mouth. Although he hadn't done this to another man, Roger worked to do what he imagined would feel good. It seemed to be working, as John continued to grip the bedsheets as he bobbed his head faster.

  
"Rog, I'm.." John started to say but jerked his head back as he reached the brink of ecstasy. Roger swallowed around John and licked around his lips.

  
He helped John kick off his bottoms and removed his own before crawling into bed next to John.

  
Roger gently kissed John's forehead and pulled the covers over them.

* * *

Roger awoke to the light of the sun shining through their window. He looked up to see John watching him. "Morning." John smiled and ran his fingers across Roger's face.

  
"Morning." Roger rolled over to see their other two friends fast asleep.

  
"Want to go for a walk?" John asked, and Roger responded with a nod.

  
Both men got dressed and made their way out the door without waking up their roommates.

Or, so they thought.

  
"Brian, wake up!" Freddie shook the curly-haired man. "Wake up!"

  
"Ughhhh what Fred?" Brian groaned and rubbed his eyes.

  
"Deaky and Roger just got out of bed together. Naked." Freddie jutted his teeth out into a smile.

  
"Roger always did move quickly." Brian shook his head in response.

  
"Do you think they're in love?" Freddie twirled his blanket in his fingers, his eyes sparkling.

  
"Love doesn't really seem like Roger's thing." Brian shrugged.

* * *

Meanwhile, the other two found themselves walking around the camp. John was studying his shoes, and Roger was studying John.

  
“Penny for your thoughts, Deacon?” Roger finally spoke, concerned for the young man.

  
“What happened last night..” John looked around to make sure that no one else was listening to them. “Are you sure it was okay?”

  
“What do you mean, John?” Roger was confused and could see the worry in the young man’s eyes.

  
“I know I told you, but I haven’t done anything like this before. I just don’t want you to regret it.” John looked at his feet, his face turning scarlet.

  
Roger stopped and looked around to ensure no one was looking. Then, he grabbed John’s hand and pulled them behind a building. He tipped John’s face up to look at his and saw fear in the boy’s eyes.

  
“John, you don’t have to worry about that, really.” Roger’s lips upturned. “I have to be honest, I was worried about the same thing.”

  
“Really?” John’s face grew a smirk. “Why?”

  
“I’ve never been with a bloke before, and you’ve never been with anyone. I just didn’t want to disappoint you.” Roger’s face turned serious.

  
“I assure you that you didn’t.” John’s face grew red.

  
“John..” Roger rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to stop.. Whatever this is.”

  
“Me neither.” John smiled and cupped Roger’s cheek. He leaned in and kissed him softly and slowly.

  
While they were lip-locked, a nosy Paul Prenter snuck around the side of the infirmary to see who was speaking in private. When he saw the two men acting intimately, he retreated quickly. He rubbed his hands together and a maniacal smile spread across his face.

"Wait until Beach gets a load of this."


End file.
